


Secret Solenoid 2020

by newbandnamethx



Series: Events/Exchanges/Gifts [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, Jealousy, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg (Transformers), Possessive Behavior, Secret Solenoid 2020, Transformer Sparklings, theres a bit of mags/megs but its such a bg thing im not tagging it lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbandnamethx/pseuds/newbandnamethx
Summary: Here's by gift for Bonanza https://twitter.com/bonanza_marco. Mostly Rodimus/Thunderclash focused with a bit of ot4 including Mags and Megs.
Relationships: Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Thunderclash, rodimus| rodimus prime/thunderclash/megatron/ultra magnus
Series: Events/Exchanges/Gifts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160420
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Secret Solenoid '20-'21





	Secret Solenoid 2020

They had formed an odd sort of threesome. Magnus and Megatron were in the same boat, they were too high ranking and too intimidating for casual interfacing amongst the crew, not to mention the two of them found the idea of interfacing with their subordinates a bit morally repugnant.

Thunderclash wasn’t part of the high command, but he was treated with the same respect afforded to them. He also just didn’t enjoy the odd power imbalance that arose from having someone who idolized him. Sleeping with a fan, someone who bought into the stories about him more than him as a mech, he’d pass.

It also didn’t hurt that the three of them got along, in a way. Of course, Thunderclash still had his hangups about Megatron, but well, he’d committed to the new universe, which in a sense meant he’d committed to his belief in Megatron’s ability to change. And he’d seen enough evidence for now that he even had a sort of begrudging respect for him, though someone would have to pry his processor apart for him to admit it.

It began with the three of them in a bar. Like the start to a bad joke.

“So,” Thunderclash said slowly, shuttering his optics as he tried to take the whole proposition in. “It’s like a friends with benefits sort of deal?”

“You could look at it that way,” Megatron replied. Magnus nodded. Thunderclash inclined his helm slowly. He had a rather… tempestuous relationship with casual interfacing. He had his optics on someone else, a particular someone who was, at that current moment strolling past with his bright yellow spoiler held high. Thunderclash felt his spark start to ache and forced his optics back to the matter at hand.

“What are the ground rules for this?” he asked, looking at the other two seriously.

“Don’t mention it outside of the room, no one has to do anything they’re uncomfortable with, the arrangement can stop at any time,” Megatron ticks off.

“No hard feelings,” Magnus added, with a slight smile. Thunderclash was frankly surprised Magnus was in on this at all, but the mech did seem to be relaxing more and more as time went on. His relationship with Megatron was a big question mark, both to Thunderclash and several members of the ship. He had heard of several betting pools on the subject, but had the good taste not to join in.

“Sure, why not?” Thunderclash said with a shrug. He finds his optics lingering back to Rodimus who has met up with Drift and the two are talking animatedly in a booth together. There’s a broad smile on Rodimus’ face and his optics have a wicked spark to them.

“Do you think Rodimus would want in on this?” Thunderclash asked absentmindedly as the rather flashy mech starts laughing so hard at a face Drift pulls that energex comes out his nose. It isn’t long until the two of them are practically on the floor rolling.

Magnus eyed over where Rodimus was leaning close into Drift, energon having been wiped off his face, whispering something low that had the other mech looking flustered.

“I think he has things handled,” Magnus said, clearly unimpressed at the two’s antics.

Thunderclash nodded. It would probably be better this way. Ever since they’d entered the new dimension, and Thunderclash had time to mull over the events that had occurred, he’d discovered a fondness and sense of camaraderie for his captain that had slowly stewed into something much more insidious and distracting. Thunderclash found himself staring at Rodimus as he wrapped his lips around a straw, before he looked over and saw Drift watching him back.

The other mech merely winked and threw him a grin. Thunderclash hurriedly turned himself fully away and back to Megatron and Ultra Magnus, taking a heavy drink before he looked up to see the other two staring at him, Megatron with mild amusement and Ultra Magnus with utter confusion tinged with concern.

“I’m in,” Thunderclash grunted as he set his drink down and did his best not to look back behind him.

\---

They didn’t get the chance to act on their agreement before trouble struck the Lost Light as it inevitably always did. Their engine needed fuel and Rodimus settled for haggling for it in a particularly grungy looking port town. Magnus had all but forced Thunderclash on him as protection, but Rodimus had an easy time losing the other mech through the crowded streets and dim lighting, even with his flashy plating.

Thunders was an alright sort of guy he supposed, Rodimus had found himself unwillingly starting to like the mech more and more the longer he stuck around. He had a dorky sort of quality to him, and Rodimus liked that. It made him seem much less like Primus’ gift to mecha, and more just like a guy.

Rodimus had tried to approach Thunderclash for casual interface a few times, maybe just something to test the waters a bit. But every time, the mech got a constipated look on his face and politely turned him down, asking him if he wouldn’t like to get a drink some time. Rodimus had always shot that down.

Something about the way Thunderclash looked at him had him feeling skittish at times. Facing ways easy, impersonal, and private, at least to Rodimus. He didn’t trust himself not to say something stupid sitting with Thunders just talking with a few drinks in him. He had a legendary penchant for running his mouth after all.

Rodimus sighed irritably at the memory. Yeah, Thunders was alright, but he would certainly bog Rodimus down while he haggled for fuel. The mech was too honest, Rodimus could almost smell it radiating off him. Plus he reeked of authority and would potentially scare off sellers. He didn’t really care where the fuel was salvaged or stolen from, as long as it was pure and kept their lights on.

Surprisingly, the deal itself went fine, Rodimus was preening over that, having sent Magnus the coordinates for them to pick up the fuel, when he felt an arm lock around his throat and a prickle at the back of his neck. Then everything went black.

When Rodimus woke up, it was in the medbay with several system error warnings flashing and a pulsing ache in his helm. His optics onlined, but the world around him was bleary and shaky. He cleared his intake a few times, trying to rid himself of the odd clogged feeling in it. A moment later he registered a presence next to him.

Ratchet looked at Rodimus, mild irritation plain on his face. A worried Drift sat next to him, blue optics lighting up as soon as he saw Rodimus was awake. His friend’s face had a drawn look to it, like he hadn’t recharged the entire time Rodimus was out, which, knowing Drift….

“What happened?” Rodimus groaned, pressing at his helm as he attempted to sit up only to have bright bursts of white hot pain explode behind his optics.

“What happened is you ditched your backup and promptly got datahacked. Or at least an attempted datahack. You’re lucky Thunderclash was able to find you in time,” Ratchet chastised, face looking dark with disapproval and disappointment, as well as straight up Ratchet brand agitation.

“Whazzat mean?” Rodimus murmured muzzily as he tried to decide whether or not he was going to purge right then and there. “Did they pick up the fuel? Cause if not Mags is gonna get on my aft-.”

“Yes Rodimus they got the fuel,” Drift cut him off gently, sounding the slightest bit exasperated as he walked over to his friend and pressed him tenderly back into the berth. “You should relax, you still feel all out of sorts.”

Rodimus snorted, “Can you sense that in my aura?”

“Lay back on the berth, and take this,” Ratchet grumped as he handed Rodimus a bucket with one servo and pressed him back into the berth with his other. “If you’re gonna purge, do it in that. Datahacking means they tried to forcefully remove information out of you, it’s very painful, very damaging, so you owe Thunderclash a very big ‘Thank you for saving my sorry aft.’”

“Alright, alright,” Rodimus muttered sulkily while internally he groaned. Being in debt to Thunderclash. Not ideal.

“Not alright, listen to me Rodimus,” Ratchet said, voice turning soft, and somehow even more threatening as it did so. “Datahackers inject their victims with a virus that disables security and safety protocols. I purged it but I don’t know if everything is 100% back to the way it should be, so over the next few days, hell, maybe even weeks, I need you to stay out of trouble while I have Aid searching for anything out of place.”

“Got it,” Rodimus said. Ratchet did not look impressed. Nonetheless, two days later, when the nausea and dizziness subsided, Rodimus was let go. He’s told First Aid will keep looking through his code and if needed, he’ll be called back for further inspection and fixes.

“One last thing,” Ratchet stops him as he’s about to leave the medbay. Rodimus represses a sigh of annoyance and turns to face Ratchet.

“Yeah?”

“Your core temperature has been a bit higher than normal, I think it’s your outlier ability, it will probably even out in a few days. If not-.”

“Come back here, yeah, yeah. I got it Ratch. Thanks,” Rodimus smiled tightly and quickly left before Ratchet could snap something back or threaten him or something.

\---

Rodimus was relieved to be out of the medbay and away from Ratchet. As much as he liked Ratchet, even if he was a gruff old sourpuss, forty-eight hours within close proximity of him was coming up on a mutual limit for the both of them.

He made a mental note to never get locked up in the medbay due to injuries again. That mental note perhaps plays a part in his hesitation to bother Ratchet when a small tingle in his array starts up.

He ignored it, because it popped up conveniently in the middle of his bridge duty. By the end though, the tingle is more of an itch, and by the time he’s had a few drinks at Swerves with Drift in the evening, the itch has become a full blown burning sensation to the point where he can think of little else.

“Are you alright Rodimus?” Drift asked, concern plain in his optics as he watched Rodimus distractedly trace the beads of condensation on his drink with the tip of his digit. He felt like Drift had been watching him closely since he got datahacked.

As much as he loved his amica, he didn’t like the idea that Drift was potentially behaving like an extension of Ratchet, watching him for signs that something was wrong. As if Rodimus couldn’t handle himself, and make that judgement.

“Oh, uh yeah, y’know, I think I should… go back to my quarters. Up and early to impress Magnus,” Rodimus said distractedly. Drift didn’t look for a moment like he’s buying the story but he’s content to let Rodimus go on this one.

“I think that’s a good idea Roddy, it looks like you could use a rest,” Drift agreed gently and Rodimus tried to not find it patronizing.

He doesn’t say goodbye to Drift so much as distractedly meander off. Rodimus wasn’t really thinking much about where he’s going after a while. His buzz was fading, and what little distraction the energex had offered was wearing off. He found himself blinking at the door he’s standing in front of. He contemplated just turning around and heading back to his quarters, but then thought again and shrugged.

“Thunders,” Rodimus was banging on the door sounding out of breath and the barest hint of flustered.

“Thunders!” His voice comes again. Thunderclash finds himself frozen, looking between Magnus and Megatron and then back at the door. He tilted his helm to the door and Magnus shook his helm slowly.

Finally, the three of them had been able to agree to a time to meetup and act on their agreement. They’d been in the middle of winding down from their day, and having a bit of a chat before they got down to anything frisky. Magnus was seated in Thunderclash’s desk chair while Megatron sat perched on the edge of Thunderclash’s berth. All three of them sat still and silent, hoping that Rodimus would get bored and leave.

No such luck.

Their silence did them next to no good when Rodimus, instead of using the captains’ override code he had access to, used his outlier ability to overheat the lock to Thunderclash’s door so that it swung open begrudgingly.

“Wh- how?” Magnus spluttered as he watched the red and gold mech stumble through the doorway. 

“‘S easy Mags, I just fry it a little so that it wigs out and pops open, do it all the time,” Rodimus said, woozy smile crossing his face. His systems feel dull and there’s something really off with his outlier ability because he felt hot. But not like the dry heat of flames. It was definitely a wetter, tinglier, burning heat.

Magnus’ expression screwed up in anger and disbelief, “You are the one that’s been warping locks all around the ship? Rodimus I cannot tell you-.” Magnus seemed to be working himself up into giving a long and thorough lecture but Rodimus seemed to be in the mood for none of it. Instead he planted himself on Magnus’ lap and laughed obnoxiously.

“C’mon Mags don’t be so stuck up, ‘s just a bit of fun,” Rodimus said slightly out of breath and still laughing a bit, leaning into Magnus’ frame. 

“Rodimus you’re hot,” Magnus said dumbly, looking to Thunderclash and Megatron for support. Thunderclash pressed a servo to Rodimus’ forehead and pulled it back.

“Yeah, Ratch said, he said. Uh, the virus might be messing with my protocols and the overheating might just be…” Rodimus’ expression went glassy a moment before he recovered himself. “My outlier ability acting up. He said it would level out though.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Megatron muttered lowly.

“Relax Megs, if Ratch, the most neurotic mech on the ship isn’t worried about it, then there’s probably nothing to worry about,” Rodimus sighed airily, cuddling himself closer to Magnus. Magnus in turn looked strained, caught between the part of him that wanted to enjoy this situation and the part of him that, as usual, didn’t trust Rodimus’ lackadaisical nature. 

Thunderclash looks away from the sight of the two of them so close. He hadn’t missed the tension that developed between them, and sometimes he envied it, as over time it seemed to have drifted from irritation, to camaraderie, to affection.

“So can we frag?” Rodimus asked, directing the question at no one in particular. His abruptness was rewarded with Magnus nearly dumping him out of his lap. 

“Excuse me?” Magnus spluttered while Thunderclash only peered more worriedly at Rodimus and Megatron looked at him unimpressed.

“Rodimus? Maybe you should go back to Ratchet’s,” Thunderclash suggested kindly.

“I just got back from Ratch, he said I was fine,” Rodimus exploded petulantly, sliding out of Magnus’ lap to press himself against Thunderclash who immediately began to flush at the contact. Thunderclash’s jealousy was easily forgotten as he found himself with an armful of Rodimus looking at him with optics dark with something that threatened to swallow him whole. 

“I just came for a quick frag,” Rodimus murmured against Thunderclash. “Help me get my head in order.”

Magnus and Megatron looked at Thunderclash unimpressed. 

“What are they doing here? You guys staging a mutiny or somethin’?” Rodimus asked as he turned around to eye his co captain and second in command. There was no heat in his tone and Magnus thought it might’ve been a poorly delivered joke, but something about Rodimus’ delivery makes it hard for him to be sure. 

“We were discussing the er,” Thunderclash started before faltering immediately in his lie. Megatron rolled his optics while Magnus picked it up for him.

“The edits for the Lost Light’s new revised manual. Some of the regulations and rules have to change now that we are in a completely new dimension.”

“Sounds boring, I think a frag club would’ve been better,” Rodimus snorted. “You’re all too responsible, you should relax more.”

“I think you should relax a lot less,” Megatron sniped. Rodimus looked at him and stuck out his tongue.

“Yes well,” Magnus began awkwardly as he stood and started to inch towards the door. “We should probably leave you to it.”

At his words Thunderclash looked absolutely panicked, as if he was being left alone for Rodimus to eat him alive, not just interface with him. Though the way Rodimus treated Thunderclash sometimes, those two things seemed occasionally interchangeable.

“You can stay if you want,” Rodimus said, voice a near purr. Thunderclash meanwhile looked conflicted, like he wanted to be jealous but also was worried what trouble or heartbreak a one on one with Rodimus would bring.

Magnus and Megatron shared a long look. 

“Oh I get it,” Rodimus muttered hazily. “You don’t think I can be d-d-discreet. I’ll have you know I’m plenty good at keeping secrets when I need to,” Rodimus looked pained for a moment at his own statement before his expression evened out.

Magnus sighed and shrugged, “Rodimus, if you agree to go back to Ratchet, and he affirms it’s nothing serious, we’ll assist you in your… dilemma.”

“We will?” Megatron asked and was only answered with Magnus staring at him pointedly. 

“Deal,” Rodimus said, flinging out his servo for a handshake and then dropping it when no one grasped it. Instead he just sighed and opened his panel, letting out a deluge of lubricant onto Thunderclash’s thigh, which had the other mech making a surprisingly high pitched strangled noise.

“After Ratchet,” Magnus groaned, looking away from the literally hot mess that was currently Rodimus.

A few minutes and a hasty wipe down later the four of them were in the medbay and First Aid was finishing up his scan. Ratchet was in recharge as First Aid often took the later shifts, the mech preferring the quiet and less chaotic shift.

“Well, it’s nothing too serious,” First Aid said as the scan shut off.

“Yes,” Rodimus cheered obnoxiously.

“What is it?” Thunderclash asked, concern plain in his magenta optics. First Aid sighed.

“His protocols are wonky, ever since he got injected with the virus. Some got turned off a few got turned on it seems. Specifically his heat protocol,” First Aid put down the scan gun and looked at the four mecha regarding him curiously. 

“Like his outlier ability?” Thunderclash asked helplessly.

“Like the primal urge to interface for the functionalist regime,” First Aid said bluntly. “Ratchet must have mistook it for his outlier ability acting up, can’t blame him to be honest. Rodimus always runs a little hot compared to other mecha.”

“Er, so what does this mean?” Magnus persisted.

First Aid shrugged, “It means he can self service it out or take a partner. The program is a bit archaic and can’t really tell the difference between actual interface and not.”

“Problem solved, it’s nothing serious,” Rodimus said distractedly, already slipping himself off the berth and striding towards the exit. “Thanks Ratch.”

“It’s ‘Aid,” First Aid said as he tossed the scanner onto his desk and turned his back on the other mecha. “Come back when it’s over so I can deactivate it,” he called.

“Sure thing,” Rodimus called back and then promptly exited the medbay.

Thunderclash followed after, and Megatron looked like he wanted to leave the medbay as soon as possible as well, but Magnus lingered a moment.

“And with the protocols, is Rodimus still in control of his faculties?”

“As in control of them as he ever is,” First Aid snorted. “He’s horny. He’s not a sex crazed maniac. If you asked him if he wanted to ‘face with a sparkeater, he’d say no.”

“That’s not exactly a reassuring example,” Magnus pressed.

First Aid sighed and rolled his optics, “Heat protocols always skew judgment a slight bit, but Rodimus doesn’t need you to take care of himself, and he’s aware of that.”

Some of the concern in Magnus’ face ebbed away at that statement and he gave First Aid a curt nod. 

“Thank you for your time, and have a nice night,” Magnus said, and with that he and Megatron were exiting after Thunderclash and Rodimus. 

First Aid watched them go a moment and then picked the scanner back up, looking at it. 

“Wonder if I should’ve warned him not to spark merge during a heat cycle,” he murmured as he looked at the scanner again. He shrugged. Rodimus didn’t seem like the intimate type. It probably wasn’t that big a deal.

\---

By the time Magnus and Megatron arrived back at Thunderclash’s quarters, things between Rodimus and Thunderclash were getting hot and heavy. Rodimus’ panel was open again and this time he seemed to have been able to coax Thunderclash into pushing a few digits into him. 

The result was Rodimus enthusiastically riding Thunderclash’s digits while the mech himself looked enamoured with the sight in front of him. Thunderclash’s entire servo felt soaked and every time Rodimus pressed down onto his digits there was a wet squelch that had Thunderclash’s spike pressing at his panel in almost no time at all. 

Magnus was just about to open a comm and ask Megatron if they weren’t better off leaving the two to themselves when Rodimus noticed their presence and deftly removing himself from both Thunderclash’s digits and grip, he made his way over to them grabbing them both by the servo and yanking them toward the berth.

Things ran decidedly smoother from there, Rodimus crawled onto Magnus and started kissing him, conveniently giving Megatron a nice view of his valve and the slickness it had dripped all over his thighs.

Anticipation made him impatient, or to be more precise, more impatient than he usually was, which was impressive. Rodimus pressed his servo to Magnus’ panel, rubbing at it in the hopes of getting it open.

He was distracted for a moment by the feeling of large digits brushing gently against his valve, spreading him open as Megatron swiped at a bit of the slickness with his thumb.

Rodimus pressed back into the touch just as Magnus’ panel unlatched with a satisfying click. As Rodimus settled himself down into Magnus’ lap to teasingly suck the head of his spike into his mouth, Megatron pushed the first digit into Rodimus’ valve.

Prepping Rodimus was relatively easy, the mech was wet and eager, and his valve was pliant and opened up easily. Megatron spent a little longer than he needed to tending to Rodimus’ valve, watching how easily it accepted his digits and brushing against a node or two that made the racecar jolt a little and wiggle his aft enticingly.

Magnus meanwhile, was gripping Rodimus’ spoiler like a lifeline, and from the pinched look on his face he was nearing an overload. 

“Rodimus,” Magnus choked out in a strangled gasp. “Off.”

With a hum that had Magnus digging his digits into the berth, Rodimus pulled back, letting the spike slip from his intake as he sat up with a smirk. His optics drifted over to Thunderclash who sat back watching them, face looking pinched and a bit frustrated as he did so.

“You want to join the fun Thunders?” Rodimus goaded him lightly, throwing him a salacious wink. Thunderclash didn’t rise to it.

“I’m good with watching for now,” he said stiffly.

Rodimus shrugged, looking only the slightest bit put out, “If you say so Thunders.”

Thunderclash was having a much harder time refusing the draw to accept Rodimus’ invitation a few minutes later as Megatron started easing himself into Rodimus while the mech was once again kissing Magnus. 

Thunderclash felt his jaw clench as he watched large grey servos place themselves upon Rodimus’ hips and large spike edge its way into Rodimus' valve. Rodimus groaned into the kiss with Magnus, wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer. 

Once Megatron was seated, Magnus slipped a digit down to tease at the taught rim of Rodimus’ valve. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, I wouldn’t want to tear anything?” Magnus started, a worried expression plain on his face.

“‘S’all good Mags I’ve done something similar before,” Rodimus breathed huskily against his mouth. “It burns a bit, but no tearing, just go slow.”

Still looking hesitant, Magnus spent a bit teasing Rodimus’ valve and trying to loosen him up further, before Rodimus grew impatient.

“Just go for it Mags, I’ll say stop if I need it,” he urged, wiggling his hips impatiently. Megatron tightened his grip and looked at Magnus irritably, Rodimus’ chronic impatience seemingly infecting him for the moment as well.

“Just take him,” Megatron agreed. He shifted positions, leaning back and moving his servos under Rodimus’ legs to spread them and pull them up. This gave Magnus a nice view of Rodimus’ valve and an easy position to enter him from.

He took it slow, or tried to, with Rodimus’ squirming. 

“Still alright?” Magnus asked for perhaps the fifth time since he started nudging himself in.

“Mags I am going to die of boredom before I die from the girth of your spike,” Rodimus snapped.

“Thunderclash, why don't you come over here and keep his mouth busy,” Megatron suggested as Magnus looked ready to start in on Rodimus about his reckless nature, general lack of foresight, and impulsiveness.

Thunderclash, who had been clenching his thighs tight enough to dent, stood and walked woodenly forward, his mine scrambling to pull together a coherent thought as he drew nearer. Rodimus looked good. Better than good, his mouth was slack and open, sharp puffs of warm air coming out of it as Rodimus panted lightly. His valve looked obscenely stretched between Megatron and Magnus’ spikes. His node was flashing brightly, begging to be touched.

Without a word, Thunderclash leaned forward and kissed Rodimus, servo drifting down to rub at his node in gentle little circles. Rodimus started making high pitched, breathy noises into Thunderclash’s mouth which only encouraged him to rub at Rodimus’ node harder, as he cupped the back of Rodimus’ head and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

Rodimus let out a frustratingly adorable moan as he overloaded, valve relaxing further as he did so and slicking the two spikes lodged within him. The looseness and added slick let Magnus slip his spike the rest of the way in, the convoy letting out a sigh of contentment as he hilted into Rodimus. Rodimus himself was starting to look like he was a bit overwhelmed by what he had taken on.

Thunderclash broke off their kiss to stare into hazy, pleasure filled optics and ask, “Are you alright Rodimus, need anything?”

“Doing, doing just fine Thunders,” Rodimus replied slowly, saying the words with a sluggish edge.

Rodimus felt stuffed full, his valve crammed with Magnus and Megatron’s spikes. His vents were open and pouring out heat. The berth and his thighs were sticky with his previous overload.

Megatron asked, “Alright if we start?”

“Please,” Rodimus near begged, a note of desperation in his voice. He was almost instantly obliged as Megatron and Magnus started up a pleasant rocking motion that seemed to appease all three of them.

Thunderclash found his place in the messy grouping by moving in close and resuming to sloppily kissing Rodimus. His optics were mostly closed but in the middle of their kissing he felt a tingle of warmth on his chassis and an unmistakable pull. His optics shot open and he looked down to see Rodimus’ chest plates were open.

“Rodimus, er, your chest plates are open,” Thunderclash said nervously, staring down at the spark in front of him. It was blue tinged, and bright as the matrix itself. He found it hard to look away. Beautiful, Rodimus, every part of him was always so beautiful.

A part of him itched to merge with Rodimus, a dark possessive part of him that had been indignant at the events of this whole night. But a larger, lighter side of him, the part of him that sought to adore Rodimus and see him flourish, held himself back.

“Rodimus, can I?” he hesitated asking, because maybe he just shouldn't, maybe this was all just letting the heat of the moment get too far away from them. But then Rodimus pressed himself closer and Thunderclash felt his chest plates opening anyways as he’s being pulled down back into a kiss that has coherent thought leaving him again.

They pressed together and for a moment Rodimus was overwhelmed with the joy and possessive rush of Thunderclash’s consciousness merging with his own. His body tingled with the thrill, the surge of positive feelings from Thunderclash’s side of the equation.

Rodimus, despite his own intentions, felt himself letting his reluctant affection for Thunderclash slip away into the merge, as well as his begrudging admiration for the war heros feats, mixed with the fondness for the mech’s more hidden clumsy side. Thunderclash responded to these feelings with eagerness and adoration and it felt nice for a bit, it did.

Rodimus realized he’s getting close to Thunderclash and in a flash there’s a bolt of panic in the bond, and a flash of pain and Rodimus jerked back to separate the two of them, ending the merge. He’s dizzy and overwhelmed and he probably overloaded a few times at some point.

He quickly packed away his emotions on the subject, saving them for a later time, or maybe never. Never sounded good. He let exhaustion fill his frame and processor so he doesn’t have to think too hard on the night’s events. Dimly, he recognized Magnus was pulling out of him alongside Megatron and laying him down.

It isn’t much longer before he’s fast into recharge as a frazzled Thunderclash found himself trying to settle his roiling internals on the berth next to him. 

\---

Surprisingly, by the time any of them were awake, Rodimus was up and gone, leaving the three of them tangled in a sticky mess.

“Well, that was a night,” Megatron commented, rubbing at his helm.

“Indeed,” Magnus said.

Thunderclash just sat quietly, contemplating the spot where Rodimus had been hours before enjoying himself, laying on him in post overload bliss. His spark ached. Thunderclash suppressed a heavy sigh. 

Rodimus had propositioned him for sex several times and he’d always found a way to dodge it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to indulge Rodimus, it was the opposite in fact. He wanted everything else that came with having a relationship, and he was pretty sure Rodimus… well… didn’t. His spark burned a bit at that and he felt a bit of chagrin at the way Rodimus had of making things so inconvenient.

He’d been fine with Rodimus keeping him at arm’s length, but then the mech had to go and muddle his feelings. Thunderclash still remembered the way he had shuddered in overload as their sparks touched, and the flash of emotions and memories that had been transferred to him over their minute merge.

“Well, I’d better be going,” Magnus sighed, rising to stand. “Thanks to Rodimus’ over eager nature I have quite a few dents and transfers to buff out before my shift.”

Thunderclash inclined his helm, and listened to the soft sound of the door closing as Magnus left.

“So, you and Rodimus?” Megatron's gravelly voice reminded him of his presence. 

“Me and him,” Thunderclash muttered gloomily as he looked down at his servos. Then after a moment, realizing he’s alone with Megatron he added, a mite bit testily “What about it?”

“You two seem close.” Close was a word for it. 

“Physically, last night we were very close,” Thunderclash tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it was hard when the sentiment was practically oozing through his plating. He couldn’t control how he felt, but he could control how he expressed it. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Megatron said with an optic roll and he didn’t move closer, just crossed his arms in front of himself and stared at Thunderclash with mild disapproval.

“You should be a little more selfish from time to time, you might see yourself happier if you weren’t continually restraining yourself because you think you know what others want,” Megatron said, in a surprisingly calm and warm tone.

“I know what Rodimus does and doesn’t want, I saw it last night, he doesn’t want me.” Thunderclash nearly moaned, shoulders slumping as he did so.

“He doesn’t want you or he doesn’t want commitment?” Megatron prodded lightly.

“I don’t want Rodimus without commitment. I don’t want to share,” Thunderclash near roared, coming to a half stand and throwing up his servos in exasperation.

Megatron looked barely ruffled. “Maybe if Rodimus knew the whole you, he’d be willing to commit. Maybe not. But I don’t think you can say you gave it an earnest try until you are more earnest with him.”

Thunderclash looked at him, optics narrowing suspiciously, “And what do you know about Rodimus?”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. He just reminds me of someone else,” Megatron said softly, and his optics grew distant and tinged with a bit of sadness before he seemingly shook himself out of it.

With that, Megatron’s self help session was over and the mech was leaving the room, so that Thunderclash is alone with his thoughts once more.

\---

It had been a few weeks since their tryst, and Rodimus had been scarce. Of all the weird, strange things Magnus expected from Rodimus, avoiding him completely after their one night stand wasn’t one of them.

He was afraid he’d somehow hurt Rodimus, or that perhaps Rodimus resented him for some reason. But though the mech made himself scarce, he was his usual self when Magnus was able to find him. Magnus didn’t think Rodimus was the type to hide disdain or dislike well, or keep petty grudges a secret.

He watched Rodimus for a moment, before deciding to approach.

Rodimus was not doing well. He didn’t know what was wrong with himself at this point. He’d been feeling hungry constantly, and his fuel tanks kept reading as near empty. He’d meant to go to Ratchet several times by now but almost as soon as he got off his shift, he’d head to his quarters for a nap that ended up spanning almost his entire off shift. Drift had shown up at his door with a cube a few times, concerned he hadn’t seen him.

The last time he’d shown up, he’d almost convinced Rodimus into letting Ratchet make a house call, but at the last minute Rodimus turned him down. The last thing he needed was Ratchet invading his space and commenting on his disaster of a hab suite.

As he stood on the bridge trying his best to do his duty, he felt himself wobble a little on his feet. Magnus was watching him carefully.

“Rodimus, are you alright?” 

Rodimus nodded instantly, more on reflex than out of actual honesty. In reality, he’d been feeling the ache of his fuel tanks quite severely this morning despite having just refueled. 

“Peachy Mags,” he said, offering his second in command a shaky thumbs up and not bothering to lift his helm to look Magnus fully in the face.

“You seem a bit off,” Magnus pressed gently. “Do you need to go to Ratchet? I could get someone to cover your shift.”

Rodimus blinked at the large blue mech in disbelief. Maybe he needed to clean out his audials.

“Mags, are you alright? I don’t think you’ve ever offered to let me cut out on a shift before,” Rodimus said with a grin that was just the slightest bit tinged with weariness.

“Your attempts at playing ill have never been this convincing,” Magnus said dryly. He expected a cheery laugh from Rodimus in return followed by a playful jab, but what he got instead was a heavy thud and the sight of his co-captain passed out on the floor.

\---

By the time Rodimus comes to, he’s staring up into the petulant gaze of Ratchet. Drift was at his side, probably called there for moral support.

“Just once, I’d like you to come to me not in dire straits. Does the phrase “preventative measures” mean anything to you?”

Rodimus’ brow furrowed, “You mean like contraceptives?”

“Funny you mention that,” Ratchet said in a tone that sounded like he was struggling to find the humor in anything.

“What’s funny?” Rodmus asked, squinting at Ratchet as he fiddled with a datapad.

“You’re sparked,” Ratchet said, turning the datapad around so Rodimus got a look at it. Rodimus squinted at it a moment, blinked, and then squinted at even harder. 

“There’s two of them,” Rodimus said as he peered closer at the datapad. On it was a short video of two new sparks orbiting Rodimus’ spark, repeating over and over. Ratchet shoved it fully into his servos. Drift slid around him to peer at the datapad, and Ratchet watched as a giddy smile broke across his conjunx’s face.

“Very observant today,” Ratchet said with a roll of his optics and a huff of exasperation.

“How did this even happen?” Rodimus asked as he stared at the two little sparks orbiting his own.

“When your heat protocols were activated, you had an increased chance of getting sparked,” Ratchet sighed as he picked up another datapad. “I deactivated them again by the way. So you don’t have to worry about them again.”

“No, just two newsparks,” Rodimus snorted as he glared down at the datapad, as if hoping the spark’s pictured could feel his ire.

“If you don’t want them…,” Ratchet started, waiting a beat to gauge Rodimus’ reaction. Rodimus closed his optics and shook his head.

“I can't do that.”

“Right,” Ratchet turned to the exhausted looking mech on the berth. “Then who is the sire?”

“Sire,” Rodimus said dazedly. “Why does- Oh, no. No way, you said-.”

“Rodimus how are you going to hide two new sparks from their sire?” Ratchet asked testily, glaring down at Rodimus. “Are you going to ditch the ship and try to make it out on your own in a new universe you know nothing about?”

Rodimus stayed silent, looking at his servos and trying to contemplate the situation. Usually he didn’t need to think, he just had an idea of a vague direction to head in, and he did it. A soft noise of distress exited Rodimus’ mouth in response.

Rodimus looked pleadingly at Drift who looked put upon until Ratchet cut off his view of his amica’s puppy dog eyes, arms folded, glaring at Rodimus sternly.

“He won’t help you either, leave him be.”

Rodimus sighed. “I don’t know.”

Ratchet looked at him in exasperation, dragging a servo down his face as he struggled to rein in his temper “What do you mean you don't know?”

“I mean, the only time I ‘faced after the virus was with three guys, and I don’t know who’s the sire,” Rodimus said as he slumped into the medical berth further. Drifted sat on the edge and set a soothing servo onto Rodimus’ upper arm while the mech himself did his best not to look distraught.

Ratchet sighed, “Comm all of them. Tell them to come here and tell them it’s urgent.”

A moment later Magnus was bursting through the door followed shortly by Thunderclash and Megatron. Magnus looked to Ratchet.

“I was informed of an urgent situation in the medbay?” His optics glanced to Rodimus, sitting sullenly on the berth. Thunderclash was edging closer to him, though Rodimus either didn’t notice or was ignoring him.

“Well Rodimus, either you tell them, or I do,” Ratchet said, looking pointedly at the mech in question. Rodimus sighed and opened his spark chamber. The three mech were drawn closer by the curious sight of a small light orbiting Rodimus spark. Just as it was slipping out of view another one rounded the corner.

“New sparks?” Megatron murmured quietly, drawing closer to them. Rodimus shifted uneasily at his presence. “How? Who?”

“Yes, who is the sire?” Thunderclash pressed. His optics looked melancholic, as if the world were falling down around his helm.

Rodimus at last seemed to give into the fact that the truth was coming out sooner or later, and he decided he’d prefer it be sooner, if only to end this annoying line of tentative questioning.

“One of you, or all of you, I don’t really actually know!” Rodimus threw up his servos in exasperation.

Ratchet stepped in at that point, “Alright, basic biology lesson. If you donated CNA through transfluid or through spark to spark contact, you are a sire, congrats.”

The three large mecha looked absolutely thunderstruck, none of them reacting for a long moment. Then all of them reacted seemingly at once.

“A sire?” Megatron murmured, his tone sounding hushed and full of wonder.

“And there’s two,” Magnus asked, and his expression was as close to elated as Rodimus had ever seen it.

Thunderclash merely gawked at Rodimus before he enveloped him in a hug so tight Rodimus was afraid his spoiler would snap off. He pounded on Thunderclash’s back until the other mech let him go.

“Carrying here Thunders,” Rodimus said wheezily as his spark burned.

“So what does this mean precisely,” Magnus asked, expression pensive.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Rodimus snapped, then looked pointedly at Ratchet, jabbing an accusing digit in his direction. “You’re not taking me off duty and I’m not resigning as captain.”

“You are welcome to attempt bridge duty with two newsparks sapping your energy, I’m sure someone will comm me when you collapse,” Ratchet sniped back at Rodimus, expression devoid of pity.

Rodimus' look was one of desolate resignation.

“Ratchet, ease up on him, this is a lot to take in,” Drift said gently, coming to his amica’s side and letting Rodimus rest his helm against him. Ratchet’s gaze stayed hard a moment longer before easing up.

“I’ve not dealt with new sparks in ages, which means I’d be underprepared for one new spark, let alone two. I need you to take it easy and not exacerbate the situation,” Ratchet attempted to say in what was probably the most forced positive bedside manner of his career. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Rodimus grumbled. 

Ratchet looked up to see Thunderclash looking at Rodimus in a way he knew spelled doom for the both of them. Drift had first pointed out Thunderclash’s rather unsubtle crush on Rodimus. Ratchet wasn’t the type to either look or pry into other mechas’ business, and he tried not to make an exception for his long time friend. Whatever drew him to Rodimus was a mystery as baffling as the Knights of Cybertron had been.

“How long does he have?” Magnus asked. Neither Rodimus or Thunderclash seemed to notice the question, the two of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

“Thankfully, only about a month, you’re about two thirds of the way through carrying” Ratchet said. It was a short amount of time, but he didn’t fully trust Rodimus not to find a way to bung it up or make things ten times more complicated. 

“I know you don’t like staying in one place for long Rodimus, especially here. And I don’t exactly love the idea of you disrupting my other patients,” Ratchet began huffily. “But I want you to stay here until the emergence. Won’t mandate it, but strongly suggest it.”

Drift looked at Rodimus expectantly, optics wide and pleading and silently begging Rodimus to make the safe choice.

Rodimus sighed, “Fine, alright fine. But I’m not going to be the only one watching them after this is all over.” Rodimus made the statement and glared at each of the three mecha responsible for contributing to his current predicament.

“Alright, good,” Ratchet for once looked satisfied with Rodimus. He turned to the three mecha lingering in his medbay. “Now let Rodimus rest, visiting hours are over for now.”

Rodimus watched them turn to go, and a part of him wanted to be satisfied at their departure. But another part of him ached. He wondered if there was something up with his spark. Maybe it was the newsparks. Or maybe it was the merge. Rodimus’ optics drifted to Thunderclash, who was looking straight ahead as he made his exit, face stoic.

Just as Thunderclash was about out the door, Megatron leaned in and said something in a low tone Rodimus couldn’t make out. Thunderclash’s expression broke into something much more anxious as his optics darted to Rodimus.

He turned and reentered the medbay, facing an unimpressed Ratchet. Thunderclash leaned in to Ratchet and said something to which the medic shrugged, sighed, and waved him on, leaving the medbay to head into his office. 

That left Rodimus alone with Thunderclash who was looking at him expectantly as if he was the one who had asked him to be here.

“What is it,” Rodimus snapped, quickly growing tired of the staring.

“We should talk,” Thunderclash began.

“We are talking,” Rodimus huffed, relaxing back into his berth. He didn’t know why he was like this to Thunderclash in all honesty. Why his earnesty bothered him so much. Why he was so bad at letting the mech be genuine with him without feeling the need to be disingenuous in turn. Why all the feelings he enjoyed so much during the merge also frightened him.

“I like you” Thunderclash said simply, magenta optics looking at him, wide and vulnerable.

“I like you too Thunders, but I like you a little less every moment you spend not getting to the point,” Rodimus stated, tone growing sour as he finished his sentence.

“From the merge, I got the impression you might have liked me too,” Thunderclash went on, and his optics looked sad now. It was impressive how a grown mech of a few million years, decorated war veteran and all, could still look like a lost puppy. If it was anyone else but Thunderclash, Rodimus would think it was an act, but he knew all too well it was sincere.

“I do like you Thunders, I just said that.”

“Then why do you pull away?” Thunderclash said heatedly, catching Rodimus off guard. He had the distinct feeling he was being backed into a corner somehow, and that made his spark spin a little faster.

“Why do you think?” Rodimus snapped, hunching up his shoulders and scooting himself back on his berth a bit as Thunderclash leaned in close.

“Rodimus you are not an easy mech to read,” Thunderclash’s expression looked pained as he said the words, and confusion and frustration was plain on his features.

“I don’t like myself very much Thunders, and I don’t want bots getting hurt because they buy into whatever overhyped expectations they have of me,” Rodimus felt his spark sink with every word as he laid out the thing that had been eating at him for so long. Thunderclash looked at him in disbelief.

“I don’t understand why you are so ill at ease with yourself after all you’ve accomplished,” Thunderclash said, servos reaching for Rodimus’ own. “After seeing all the mistakes and missteps everyone else has done. I don’t expect perfection, Rodimus, I just want you. And nothing less.”

“I’m not good with commitment, or vulnerability,” Rodimus said bitterly. But his posture loosened up as he admitted, “But I do like you Thunders, more than I should probably.”

“Will you give it a try? With me?” Thunderclash asked and his voice was so desperately hopeful it made Rodimus’ spark flutter a bit.

“Yeah, alright,” Rodimus felt entrenched in giddiness as he said the words, and saw Thunderclash look absolutely elated. His servo was brought up and pressed against Thunderclash’s mouth.

“Thank you Rodimus,” Thunderclash smiled.

\---

Word got around the ship in the form of two massive bombshells to the crew. 

Rodimus and Thunderclash were A Thing, and Rodimus was sparked with twin sparks. Ratchet had to fend off a very insistent bout of mecha eager to crowd and congratulate their captain at the door of his medbay. Swerve had made a daring attempt to sneak in with an obnoxiously decorated “Congratulations on the bitlets” sign.

He was caught and thrown out. The sign was allowed to stay, graciously hung up by Drift, much to Rodimus and Ratchet’s mutual chagrin. Thunderclash visited each day, asking Rodimus how he was, and each day Rodimus tried to give him a non facetious version of the truth.

When Thunderclash left, Rodimus realized something. His spark ached a little less, and the crushing weight of the intensity of what was bearing down upon him in the near future was lessened a bit. Thunderclash knew an absurd amount about sparklings and Drift had told him he’d caught the mech more than once reading datapads he’d borrowed from Ratchet about the subject.

It wasn’t endearing. Not at all. Rodimus refused to be charmed by the idea of the big dope hunched over a creator’s guide to sparkling care in the middle of Swerve’s. The anticipated date came up faster than expected, and truthfully, faster than Rodimus was ready for. A month was a fast turn around time from unwitting carrier to newly made creator, and Rodimus was feeling the whiplash.

Anode looked between the three of them worriedly, “Ah so, more of an audience, alright, yeah thats cool. I can handle this.” Anode’s expression indicated that she absolutely could not handle this. Lug placed a calming servo on her shoulder. Anode looked down at her and smiled shakily, which Lug returned.

The room grew quiet as Anode focused on her work. She shaped the metal around the spark, weaving it in elegant movements, molding and sculpting the metal until the spark was encased. A moment later a small sparkling was blinking up at Rodimus, with his same brilliant blue optics. He was a racecar build, his frame an elaborate sprinkling of reds and blues with his chest bearing a small crest resembling that of Thunderclash’s. Rodimus was so entranced staring at him that he nearly missed the creation of his second sparkling. 

A moment later she was there, brilliant magenta optics. This time her frame was that of a tank. Her coloring was blue and white primarily. She looked at Rodimus, gave a brilliant peal of laughter which startled her brother beside her and Rodimus found himself lurching to catch his daughter as she nearly crawled off the medical berth without a worry in the world as she rushed to embrace her creator.

Holding her Rodimus could feel the thrum of her spark in sync with his, and with that he tucked his face into her shoulder a moment as he felt his optics growing wet.

“You alright there Rodimus?” Magnus asked gently, optics soft as he looked at Rodimus cradling his sparkling, holding her gently to him as she continued to giggle softly.

“Yeah,” Rodimus said, swallowing a bit and resetting his vocalizer. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

“You got names for them?” Asked Ratchet as he drifted closer to the racecar and gave him a scan. Then turned to the femme in Rodimus’ arms and scanned her as well. “They’re in perfect health by the way.”

Rodimus looked between his sparklings and hesitated, seemingly overwhelmed with the choice. Mecha lived a long time, and sometimes, a name was all one had.

“Hatch and Boost,” is what he ended up with. 

“Simple,” Megatron commented and Rodimus wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“I like it,” Thunderclash said, coming to pick Boost up in his arms. The racecar was tiny compared to his tower of a sire, but he seemed delighted at the rush of being picked up, peering curiously around him.

“It suits them,” Magnus smiled.

Rodimus allowed himself a small smile as well. As always, he’d gotten himself into a mess the likes of which no one could have anticipated. This time, at least, he felt he could firmly mark the outcome as a win.

Things were uncertain as to how the parenting situation would work between them in the future. For now it was easy enough. The sparklings would stay with Rodimus as they were young and it was best for them to stay close to their creator. Rodimus in turn would be tentatively staying with Thunderclash.

He wasn’t really sure of the way forward, or how it would turn out, he wasn’t fully confident in his ability to not somehow wind up in a mess again. Rodimus looked up and caught Thunderclash gazing at him, a tender smile on his face, he realized that would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ladies and gents, happy new year!


End file.
